


dicks r' us

by peraltiagoisland



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, bearable, hope its somewhat a good read, i also dont know how to create one, jk i don't have one, jk no one cares, no one would pay me anyway, or at the very least, pls support my patreon!!, the fic uve all been waiting for, um here's some bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 09:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15704619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiagoisland/pseuds/peraltiagoisland
Summary: BIG DICK JAKE!! BIG DICK JAKE!! BIG DICK JAKE!!alternatively,Amy finds out an interesting detail about Jake’s past when they investigate the robbery of a male strip club. The revelation that Jake had another full time job before becoming a cop proves to be an interesting secret, as well as a new source of tension between them.





	dicks r' us

“Get down here." 

The warm, insouciant laughter that rolls through the speaker in response only proves to annoy Amy further—although, she has to admit that it soothes her at the same time, causing the corner of her mouth to twitch up involuntarily.

“You sound a little harsh for someone who’s dying to see me,” he quips, and then there’s a crunch sound. Amy rolls her eyes. She can picture it now: Jake’s leaning back in his chair, not sat up straight in the least, piling up on snacks and relaxing at his desk when he was supposed to meet her downstairs five minutes ago.

“I don’t care about seeing you–“ she spits, pausing only for a second as Jake feigns hurt–“we have a case to look into, and we’re running late.”

“I know, I know. I was just filling in the last of this paperwork for the Shroyer case. Besides, this case is open and shut. I already checked the surveillance footage at the drugstore, guy didn’t even wear a–“

“Jake, we’re not working on that anymore.”

A pause.

“Say what now?”

Amy sighs. How can Jake be this misinformed? “Call came in twenty minutes ago, they need two detectives on the scene. Weren’t you listening when I told you all this? I specifically heard you say ‘yes, copy that, right behind you, can’t wait’–“

Just then, Jake bursts through the doors, clearly out of breath, a huge cup of orange soda that he’s already drank half of in hand, prompting Amy to hang up the phone.

“Sorry,” he pants, taking a big sip of his drink. “I was, completely out of the zone, uh, when–“

“It’s fine, Jake.” Now that her initial annoyance has faded, Amy feels like she should have made sure Jake had actually heard her earlier, instead of taking his responses at face value. It’s not something she picked up on immediately, but over the years, she’s come to see that Jake has an attention deficiency of some kind. The man cares about his job, he really does, he just doesn’t pick up on things sometimes, has trouble listening especially when he’s already preoccupied with another task, etc. It’s a whole bunch of little things Amy has noticed over the years, and she’s learned that he tries, in spite of all this, he really does, in his own way, and the unique way his mind is wired allows him to come to crazy solves no one knows how he comes to (until he explains it) at breathtaking speeds. It’s something she greatly admires about him.

“Really?” Jake pauses, looking relieved as he gets into the passenger seat. “Thanks, Santiago.”

She smirks as she sticks the key into the ignition. “You’re welcome. Besides, it’s only fair that I be more on the ball regarding this case.” Her smile only widens as Jake raises an eyebrow, probing her to explain herself. _“Since Holt made me primary.”_

Jake nearly spits out his orange soda, which in turn causes Amy’s heart to skip a terrifying beat. “He _what?!”_

 

* * *

 

“Jake? What’s wrong?”

Amy steps back and walks towards Jake, who’s just... standing there. His eyes seem to be trained on the building they’re about to enter, he seems highly uneasy, apprehensive, as if–

“Why didn’t you tell me we were coming here?”

‘Here’, which Jake has failed to establish a context for, is a male strip club. Specifically, one named _Dicks R’ Us_ —and if Amy didn’t know any better, she would have thought Jake had some kind of vendetta against the industry.

The fact that she _does_ know better is what confuses her. The Jake she knows would have lit up when he saw the place (it’s why she didn’t tell him where they were going), rubbed his hands together in glee, fully amused by the name of this place, coming up with his own male strip club name ideas, asking Amy what her stripper name would be, telling her his own ridiculous one—the list goes on.

This is why Amy finds it incredibly strange, his disposition. He looks downright terrified of the place.

“Why? Have you been here before?” A silly thought pops into her head, and she uses it to tease him. “Don’t tell me you used to–“

“It’s fine!” He interjects loudly. “Just uh, just...” his eyes dart around, before he points with a staggering conviction at the store next to the strip club. “Bagel place! That, that uh bagel place—gave me food poisoning once. Horrible day. My face was stuck in the toilet for hours.”

Something is off about the way Jake insists this, something about this whole situation doesn’t add up, and Amy is more than sure he’s not telling the truth. But she decides that he deserves his secrets, and as his fellow detective who’s just here to solve a case with him, she decides not to pry. As his friend who respects his privacy, she pretends to accept this, grimaces for show at his graphic descriptions of stomach flu, before walking into the crime scene, with Jake following close behind her this time.

 

* * *

 

“Name?”

“Wide Wiener William.”

Amy grits her teeth slightly. This is the third guy they’ve interviewed—and by they, Amy really means just her—Jake keeps sticking to her more or less, merely listening in as she questions witness after witness. He’s fidgeting, eyes messily scanning the room, unable to stay still; it’s all very worrying behavior. But Amy lets it slide, because clearly there’s something about this place that has Jake all nervous and riled up, but whatever it is, he’s not willing to tell her.

“Not your stage name, sir. Your legal name. You know, the one you use in everyday life?”

She feels like she’s had to say this a million times already. Apparently, this is a... wacky little strip club where all the strippers have stage names that come in threes. Not all of them are good, too. She interviewed a guy named Chunky Chicken Carl earlier, and it took everything she had to refrain from asking him why he went with ‘chicken’ when ‘cock’ was _right there._

The man chuckles. “This name _is_ my everyday life. But yeah, my parents named me Bill McCoubrey.”

“Okay–“ she sighs inwardly–“Bill—do you mind telling me what you saw?”

“I already talked to one of the cops who showed, but he didn’t seem like he was taking what I said seriously.”

Amy gives the man a reassuring smile. “I know, that’s why we–“

“Big Dick Jake— _as I live and breathe!_ What are you doing back here?”

Amy’s head whips around at the sound with a terrifying speed. She spots a man, early thirties or so, walking towards them with the biggest grin on his face. Jake’s fists seem to tighten slightly, and when he finally turns around his jaw locks in place, and it’s very clear to Amy that this is probably the last thing he wanted to happen today. She starts to piece together why Jake’s been so uncomfortable the entire time they’ve been here.

It takes the man a couple of seconds and a few pointed looks from Jake, but he takes back his words, gaze switching between Jake and Amy’s badges as he swallows uncomfortably.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I think... I think I got the wrong guy. My apologies for disrupting you... _cops_. Carry on.”

He rushes off, and Jake lets out a very agitated but controlled exhale.

“So what did you see?” Jake asks, his voice sharper than it usually is, like every word is forced, like it’s trying to hide the fact that this is the first question he’s posed to this witness.

“Uh, okay, so I was in the waiting room, wolfing down some bagels from this awesome bagel place next door. I mean, _cleanest_ place I’ve ever been to, I never get food poisoning when I eat their stuff...”

 

* * *

 

Jake gets a call after they finish interviewing Wide Wiener William, and his strange testimony that repeatedly mentioned the top tier health standards of the bagel place, very coincidentally debunking all the horrible things Jake said about it. Almost too coincidentally. 

“What is it?” she asks curiously when he hangs up the phone.

“Rosa. She found this guy we’ve been chasing for a month, she said she needs my help because if we don’t move now–“

“Go.” Amy says without hesitation. “That’s way more urgent than this is.”

Clearly, this was not the response Jake wished to get from Amy.

“I mean, she can get some beat cops to go with her, I told her I was working on–“

“You’ve been chasing this guy for a month. I’ve heard the two of you ranting during lunch, _he’s bad news,_ and definitely worth leaving right now. I can wrap up here on my own, we’re almost done anyway.”

Jake appears to be very uncomfortable with this arrangement, and a part of Amy wonders if she has any ulterior motives for making him leave. She assures herself quickly by asserting that Jake and Rosa’s case takes priority over this one, which isn’t even close to needing all hands on deck yet. She certainly _can_ take it from here, so Jake definitely should leave, and she should not feel bad for making him.

“You sure you’re fine without me?”

“Absolutely. We’re almost done anyway, I’ll see you back at the precinct.”

Uncertainty trails his hasty footsteps as he runs out the door, but Jake leaves the crime scene, dashes out of _Dicks R’ Us,_ leaving Amy as the only detective on scene.

And with his departure, Amy’s afternoon earns an opportunity to become a lot more interesting.

 

* * *

 

She’s questioned way more people than she needs to at this point, even sent the uniforms packing because she was taking too long.

She knows, she knows everything about this case, based on all the words spilled by these witnesses. She can piece together a very clear string of events, heck, she has more than enough information to get her started on cracking the case.

But still, she stays, and she questions everyone, and anyone, that’ll let her. She even asks workers arriving to the club for work questions that they don’t need to answer. People who didn’t even witness the crime. Who didn’t even know about it till they got there.

“Do you have any enemies?”

“Ma’am, no disrespect, but is this necessary? I mean, we got robbed because we don’t have security. Boss likes to scrimp, I just—don’t think this could be... revenge? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

She’s stalling. She knows she is. She knows she’s making excuses to stay, she knows that thousands of questions have flooded her mind in the past hour, crashing in waves at the forefront of her mind, and if she lets them get too strong, those thoughts will become actual questions.

Actual, strange, unprofessional _invasive_ questions about her coworker and friend whose privacy she respects, whose privacy she should _continue_ to respect.

But she really, really, really wants to know! And it’s killing her to be in the dark!

Okay. She’s not in the dark completely. She’s not an idiot, she’s pretty sure Jake most definitely used to be a stripper, and this place, _Dicks R’ Us,_ is where he used to work. And she doesn’t judge him for that, obviously, not at all. In fact, if this ever comes up in conversation, Amy will even go so far as to say that she respects him for it. Why? She can’t explain that right now, and she might even reconsider saying something like that to Jake should they ever talk about this.

“Why ‘Big Dick Jake’?”

“Uh... Detective? Are you okay?”

Amy shakes her head, as if to brush off all these intrusive thoughts. “Did I say something?”

“Yeah,” he looks incredibly confused. What was this guy’s name again? Oh, that’s right, Amazing Anus Anthony. “You said something about a... Big Dick Jake?”

Amy gulps, giggling nervously, which does nothing to make Anthony more relaxed.

This... is all getting too out of hand.

 

* * *

 

Swiftly, her fingers attack the knob with a certain haste, a confidence one might develop from familiarity with routine, and water hits the floor in Amy’s shower, as it does at least once a day every day. She shuts her eyes, willingly lets hot water scald her skin, in a way that distracts her from the day she’s had, and also sort of punishes her for the thoughts she’s had.

It’s wrong. It’s wrong for her to be this curious. It’s wrong for her to have spent the entire day thinking, thinking about all that junk inside that trunk.

Specifically, Jake’s trunk, and also, Jake’s junk (duh, whose junk would be in Jake’s supposed trunk if not his own?). Even more specifically, the size of it. The length of it. And as ashamed as she is to admit it... the girth of it, too. Because wanting to know the circumference of his penis is probably going too far. This isn’t math class.

All because of his stupid old stripper name. That she keeps wondering: is it something he lives up to? Or did he pick the name just to further his past brand? What is the truth?

She’s been thinking about this all day—in an embarrassing way, of course. She’s looked over at Jake’s desk far too many times for her to keep count (how does looking even help anyway? his desk covers everything from the waist down) and he’s definitely caught her looking at least once or twice.

So there’s a good chance Jake thinks Amy’s either gone insane, or is utterly obsessed with him.

And to be fair... neither option would be a misconception on Jake’s part. She can feel herself growing crazier and crazier by the second, her hands almost clawing at her skin as she lathers soap all over her body, as if that will somehow wash the sin away.

With regards to her being obsessed with Jake... let’s just say that she hasn’t been wondering about the size of his cock all day solely because of his old stage name. The fact that Jake used to be referred to as Big Dick Jake just exacerbates an issue that was already there.

A situation that was previously mostly under control has now caused her to spiral.

_Inhale, exhale._

She gets out of the shower, drying herself absentmindedly as she thinks about how many filthy images have popped into her mind today. All of an incredibly pornographic nature.

She puts on moisturizer, and it leads her to think about how Jake hopped onto her desk when she got back, a bundle of nerves yet all casual and cool. He asked her about the case, made some faces that seemed almost practiced, he smiled at her, told her about how his and Rosa’s arrest went, tried to crack a joke or two that she would’ve laughed at more genuinely if she weren’t feeling so hot and bothered by his presence, if she weren’t thinking about how easy it would be to slide her hand up his thigh...

She’s used too much moisturizer. Damn it!

Cursing under her breath, Amy rushes her hands under the tap, desperately rubbing off the excess cream with her towel when the water makes things worse. She hastily gets dressed, throwing on some yoga pants and an old NYPD jumper.

You know what? Enough is enough. She’s let this carry on for too long, and she needs to take care of the stupid ache in between her legs, the hunger that’s been building up with every passing hour of the day. She just needs to masturbate, touch herself, get off. This is just... the most recent attack she’s received, regarding her attraction to Jake. Another fantasy that she needs to get out of her system.

Once again, Jake Peralta has gotten too hot to handle in her eyes, and once again, thinking over and over about how he has a horrible diet, puts orange soda in his cereal, probably eats ice cream for dinner or something does nothing to stop–

A brief thought about how Amy would probably mind Jake’s eating habits less if he ate _her_ out once in a while pops into mind, followed by a genuine consideration over whether Jake would be the type of person to enjoy eating food off someone’s body.

Specifically, her body.

Groaning in perceived agony, Amy stomps over to her hair dryer and begins the arduous job of drying her hair. The faster she gets that done, the faster she can (almost literally) jerk Jake Peralta out of her system. She’s well aware that she can skip the haircare routine and jump straight into bed, but as painfully aroused as she is, Amy still has priorities, and it’s not good to go into bed with a head of wet hair. She’ll get sick or something.

Sicker than the thoughts currently residing in her head.

Hot air hits the back of her neck and the sensations partly make her more desperate to climb under her covers, partly makes blow drying her hair more bearable.

But eventually, that comes to a close, and she dives into bed, warm and safe under the covers, free to think about fucking Jake as much as she wants without feeling guilty _(she’ll feel guilty afterwards, but maybe now’s not a great time to remember that),_ so that she’ll be less bothered by thoughts about his endowment tomorrow.

And hopefully, forever. Permanently. Her... attraction, and quite honestly her feelings for Jake have gotten out of control. She’s starting to question her sanity, honestly, because she’s never been this possessed with desire for anyone she’s ever met, let alone a coworker who she used to find close to unbearable at times.

All because she thinks it would feel so so good to fuck him, to feel his hard cock inside of her.

It’s not something that can happen, she can’t, she can’t get into bed with someone she works with, more importantly, she can’t _date_ someone she works with. It would be unprofessional, it would get complicated, and Jake’s friendship and partnership is the last thing she wants to screw up.

Her fingers move skillfully, rubbing at her wet folds as she begins to think, give herself something to fantasize over. She thinks back to the heated, and frankly, very awkward at times conversation she had with Jake when he was sat on her desk. She imagines it now, just her and Jake, and her desk, the same way it was at work, except no one else is there. No one is watching them this time, it’s just her and Jake.

This time, she acts on her wishes, sliding her hand up Jake’s thigh, and instead of being shocked and freaked out and maybe even grossed out like he would be in real life, Jake in Amy’s fantasy moans, completely into this, completely welcoming Amy’s touch. Her next thought is to just go straight for it, and she undoes his belt, freeing his erection from the constraints of his jeans, his boxers.

She imagines Jake passionately grabbing her for a deep kiss, which is probably a weird thing to think about if her current obsession with him is mostly sexual, but it’s working and she rubs her clit faster, imagining Jake desperately undoing the buttons of her shirt to grab at her breasts, which she mimics in reality by shoving her hand up her shirt.

She drags a finger up and down her slit as she thinks about Jake yanking her pants down, maybe even tearing her underwear in the process of trying to get her naked and inside her. She’s not sure if this is something she would appreciate Jake doing if it were to happen, but in her imagination, underwear can be fixed with a snap of her finger, so the Jake of her fantasies is welcome to tear her clothes apart however he likes in his desperation to have her. Amy slips a finger in, and then two, pulling them in and out to mimic Jake fucking her silly, a soft moan escaping her lips as the sensations take over her.

It’s good, but something eats at her as she fingers herself, tells her that her fingers aren’t enough. She opens her eyes, fumbling through her drawer for her vibrator. Since she’s already here, she might as well spoil herself. She deserves to pump this penis-shaped machinery in and out of herself repeatedly, while pretending it’s Jake’s own thrusts, until she reaches a mind blowing orgasm.

She hums contently as she turns the device on, dragging it up and down where she’s sensitive, teasing herself for a good minute or so before deciding enough is enough, and it’s time for–

Her doorbell goes off.

She blinks her eyes. Yes, this is a thing that’s happening. Her mind did not conjure the sound in an effort to, to stop herself from sinful indulgence, she is actually. Hearing. Her doorbell ring.

It’s real. Oh god, she has to answer the door! Who in the world could it be at this hour? It’s definitely late, too late for her to be receiving a package in the mail or something. Could it be a neighbor with a noise complaint? No, she’s been pretty quiet recently, when she hasn’t been at work she’s been at home alone, doing nothing that would incite a neighbor’s anger. And she’s made great efforts to keep quiet while she’s been fucking herself tonight, thank you very much.

So whoever’s at Amy’s door right now is definitely someone seeking her out with intention, and whatever intention that is, Amy doesn’t care about it right now!

Still, it would be rude not to answer. With a heavy heart and a throbbing arousal in between her legs, Amy fixes up her appearance, does what she can to make it look like she hasn’t been trying to bring herself to orgasm, whilst swearing to bear a grudge against the fiend who dared interrupt her evening.

Biting her lip to ensure she doesn’t scream at the visitor, Amy marches to her front door, swinging it open with a force equivalent to her anger.

“What–“

To her utter shock, Jake is standing on the other side. Oh crap. God is real, and he’s making a complete mockery out of Amy right now. He’s having a huge laugh with all the angels in heaven, who are probably poking each other and giggling as they openly make fun of this stupid, stupid human. Her entire face burns up in shame because how could Jake so coincidentally show up at her apartment just as Amy was touching herself to the thought of him?

Unlike Amy, who didn’t at all expect Jake’s arrival, Jake _(who did expect to see Amy, because that’s what he came all the way here this time of night for)_ barrels past Amy into her house, carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders as he storms in, arms akimbo.

“Look, there’s no point pretending, you know it, I know it, and if we act like we don’t know what went down today–“ he takes in a quick breath and exhales twice as hard–“I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. I’m going crazy here, thinking..."

Amy, who’s been frozen for long enough now, closes the door and joins Jake, who’s pacing around in her dining room and making all sorts of hand gestures.

She just gives him a neutral look. “What thing?”

He stops moving, calming down, as if remembering that hey, this is Amy. It’s all going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. “Let me start from the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t, I can’t let anyone know about this. I mean, you know, but since I can’t change that–“ he looks at her, nervous again–“please don’t tell anyone?”

“Jake–“

“I’ll do anything if you keep this a secret.”

For a second, she glances down, but immediately makes eye contact in an effort to reassure Jake that she would never let his secret fall from her lips, never let anyone make him feel shame for this part of his past, and most of all, how she would stand up for him if anyone dared to. “I won’t say a word, Jake, you can trust–“

“Why’d you look down?”

His eyes have this glint of intrigue in them when he interrupts Amy, and her next breath freezes in her throat.

“What?” The tables have turned now. If she had less self control, she’d be shaking.

“Earlier. When I said I’d do anything. Your eyes–“ he points at them, grinning–“what were you going to make me do?”

Amy attempts to deny this at all cost. Not guilty until proven otherwise, right? “Nothing!” she insists, her voice shrill and sharp, her hands waving about to deny any possible accusation.

Jake sighs, and he’s all amped up, already planning to milk this for all it’s worth; obviously he doesn’t think Amy meant anything by her glance, he’s just an opportunist. In that he will make fun of and tease Amy at any opportunity. “Detective Amy Santiago—what sick, depraved thing were you going to make me do?”

“I was going to keep your secret anyway! I didn’t want— _I don’t want_ —anything in return!” She continues fervently, refusing to back down because deep down she knows she’s guilty, deep down she knows that when Jake offered her anything, anything at all, in exchange for her silence, a thought surfaced to her mind.

And it wasn’t a very clean one.

Jake crosses his arms, refusing to drop his scandalized, disapproving act, and tuts shamelessly at Amy. “Let me guess: you were going to... make me dance for you? You wanted to see my routine? I mean, I’m good, just saying, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted a free show.”

Amy’s eyes shift in a mix of guilt and interest. A show from Jake would have been interesting. If she had been less preoccupied with other, uh, thoughts, maybe she would have thought of that earlier. “No, that’s not what I wanted.”

She realizes a second, and a wide-eyed look from Jake too late that she should have never said what she just said, or at least not phrased it that way.

“Wait–“ he bubbles with excitement–“you actually wanted something? Oh my god—I was—I was _kidding_ , Ames, you–“ he chuckles–“what was it? Did you, did you want to see my old costumes? Oh let me guess: you want a lesson don’t you? You were a straight-edged good girl in college, and now you’re wishing you did more _extra-curricular activities–_ “ he raises his eyebrow repeatedly as his mind wanders–“hmm, I could see you in tassels–“

“I wanted to know if it was true, okay?!”

Amy’s almost surprised at her interjection, but she knows it was inevitable, coming clean, because every little vague thing she said just sparked more questions and Jake kept talking and rambling and she kept getting more and more nervous and she just couldn’t take it anymore. So now, she’s said it, and Jake can hopefully not laugh at her too hard, and not bring it up too much, and they can move past this! Pretend nothing ever happened! Just like he wants! Because he’s supposed to be the one with the secret, not her!

“You wanted to know if _what_ was true?”

Oh goddamn it. Amy can’t believe this. Her hell isn’t over. Why can’t Jake just put two and two together? Is he that dense? Or is he just having trouble realizing that Amy wants to know if his dick is as big as his stage—okay yeah—it’s a pretty weird thing to want to know about. She has to give him that.

She takes a deep breath, because mindlessly blurting out things that Jake apparently doesn’t even understand is easy, but having to consciously explain that she wanted to know how big Jake was? This might be the worst day of Amy’s life.

“When we were... at the crime scene, I heard—I mean— _we heard..._ this guy call you ‘Big Dick Jake’, right? So I... I assumed that was your stage name and I, I guess I wanted to know if it was uh, based on facts–“

“Oh, right–“ he swallows–“yeah, I uh, I think I get it, Amy.”

Oh god, she’s made him uncomfortable hasn’t she? “I mean–“ she scrambles for an excuse–“it was an intellectual curiosity!”

He snorts, and instinct makes her look up. “Intellectual curiosity, huh?”

He briefly bites on his bottom lip, regarding Amy with a much more heated gaze than before, his eyes looking darker somehow, and Amy finds her pulse slowing, yet getting more intense at the same time. The atmosphere feels thicker, the mood feels deeper, less superficial than before.

And Amy finds that she can’t look away.

His tongue swipes over his lip in a swift fashion, something that reawakens the ache in between Amy’s legs. Her first thought is to escape, until she realizes that the reason behind the silence that has descended around them is due to her lack of response to Jake’s very much rhetorical question.

“Mm... hm.”

Jake smiles, but his eyes don’t follow it. He looks driven now, focused now, he wants something she’s never seen him want this badly before.

“You really wanna know?”

It’s a direct invitation, a line, she knows, and Amy’s insides are screaming because this is a thing that’s happening, something’s about to happen, and while she’s not sure what exactly will happen, she knows the effect it’s having on her, and her face goes numb.

“What–“ she giggles, which is probably a dumb mood-killing thing to do, but she can’t help it–“are you, are you going to show me your penis or something?”

His smile widens, and his fingers reach into her hair, twirling a tendril briefly before tucking it behind her ear, as if playing with her hair was an excuse to move closer to her. Amy can feel just how close he is, and her skin burns for it.

“I don’t have to show you my dick for you to know how big it is.”

This time, she’s genuinely confused.

“What does that mean?”

His hand reaches for her ear, cupping around it as he whispers, sending chills down her spine when hot breath hits her skin.

“It means, I bend you over and fuck you hard, fast, dirty... any way you want it baby.” She shudders and it’s far from inconspicuous. “Then you decide if I live up to my name.”

Unable to resist anymore, she takes the very open chance she has to have everything she’s been dreaming about all day, all week, all month.

She wants him, and she shows it in the way she grabs the sides of his face, pulling him to her lips in a harsh and needy kiss, lacking finesse but making up for it in the way her lips cling, tasting him, moaning for him, needing more and more of him. He wants her, and it shows in the way his hands slide up her back, appreciating every inch that they touch, it shows in the desperation with which he backs her up into the nearest wall—or in this case—the nearest surface that stops them from moving.

Amy’s back gently collides with her countertop, the ones that she used to appreciate for being exposed and accessible without her needing to enter the kitchen. Now, she appreciates them for a different reason. Jake presses against her and she can feel his arousal just as much as she can feel herself getting wetter and wetter for him. He doesn’t need to prove his size anymore if she’s being honest, because Amy is currently being prodded with incredibly solid proof that Jake more than lives up to his name.

But she doesn’t tell him that, because she’ll die if any of this stops.

And just like that, it stops. Not permanently, obviously, or Amy might actually die, Jake pulls away to prevent a different cause of death: asphyxiation. They’re panting, and staring into each other’s eyes, the full reality of the situation, the full implications of what they’re doing all laid out to see, and neither of them cares to stop it.

“You’re so hot,” he tells her, and it feels so random to Amy that she laughs, almost in disbelief, and also out of shyness, because she has no idea how this is happening.

“I bet you say that to all your clients,” she teases, fingers dancing at his waist, itching to undo his belt.

“I would have, if you ever came in, asking me for a lap dance,” he inhales, liking the thought of that. “Also I didn’t make out with any of my clients.” He leans in, kissing her right beneath her ear. “Don’t think I could’ve resisted you, though.”

She exhales breathily, her eyes fluttering shut at Jake’s lips. “R-Rude of you... to think that I would’ve tried to extort such services out of you. It’s not allowed.”

“I know what a good girl you are,” he mumbles as he traces her jaw with his lips, and somehow his words don’t seem to be asserting that Amy’s just a rule follower. His words make her insides explode, and she whimpers like an idiot when his hand slowly runs down her groin, only a thin layer of fabric separating his fingers from her. “I wanna find out how bad you can be."

“Please...” she struggles to breathe as she tugs at him, desperately needing friction. “I want–“

“You wanna know how big my fuckable cock is, I know, I know,” he smiles all smug, and if Amy weren’t practically paralyzed from desire, she would’ve smacked the smirk off his face. “But I need to make sure you’re ready for what I’m packing.”

He winks, slipping his hand beneath Amy’s waistband, his finger digging into what she already knows to be true. She bites her lip, failing to smother the cry that releases, because his mere touch is setting her body on fire. It feels so so good, and he’s barely touching her yet she feels sensations travel all over.

“Fuck,” he sucks in a tight breath as he draws a circle inside Amy, cursing under his breath repeatedly. “Oh god, you—you really want this, huh?”

She nods her head rapidly as he kisses her again, pleased, relishing in her whines as he rubs her soaking wet folds. “How are you so wet? This how much you wanna get fucked, Ames? This how much you want me to fuck you?”

She holds onto his sides for dear life. “I... I been, I’ve been thinking about this all day...” he groans, his lips making his way to her neck and sucking hard on her skin. “I was, I was thinking of you the whole time I...”

“What babe?” He releases for a second, planting a soft peck on her skin. “What were you up to?”

“Touching my–“ she yelps–“I almost came thinking...”

He gets the message, groaning at the thought of Amy, hand down her pants, rubbing incessantly to the thought of him. He stops fingering her, stops sucking on her neck (he’s already left a good enough mark anyway) and tugs down her bottoms, leaving her thighs bare, her sex exposed and free for him to dig into.

“Sit here babe,” he helps her up into the counter before lowering himself to his knees. “God, you smell so good, wanna taste you so bad.”

He dives in right before he can properly finish his sentence, lips latching onto her clit and sucking hard. Amy shrieks, before pressing her lips together, the prospect of a noise complaint growing with each mind-blowing moment. Jake’s tongue explores Amy, flicking against her nub and teasing her slit, going fast and slow and then so hard that he seems to be trying to dry Amy up somehow as she gets wetter and wetter for him. It goes left right and center and doesn’t really go anywhere at the same time, Amy just feels him, and Amy just lets the pleasure he’s giving her build up and up and up as she eggs him on with her nonsensical mumblings.

He has to hold her still when she comes on his mouth, convulsing against his lips that are probably somehow swollen from how much they’ve soaked in her. He plays with Amy’s clit faster and faster until her orgasm ends, her climax withering away but her body still very much in need of more.

“I would ask if that was good for you, but I don’t think I need–“

Amy pulls him back up hastily, cutting off his cocky, quipping ass, kissing him fast, her lips smacking against his, tasting herself. “Please just fuck me already,” she commands rather than asks, her hands reaching for his belt and pulling it out with a swiftness that arouses Jake.

“But I’m not done playing with you yet,” he says, like a petulant child, even though what they’re doing is a very very far stretch from what kids tend to get up to. His fingers sneak under her jumper, pulling it off in one swift motion, and then he’s stuck in a daze again when he sees her, Amy Santiago, tits out, in all her naked glory. “Okay, now I’m _really_ not done playing–“

“You can play with my boobs however you want while you _fuck me,”_ she emphasizes those last words _(you know, the ones that got italicized)_ as she whispers them harsh into his ear. He groans, feeling the neglect his cock’s been receiving in full force now. He needs to get off, and he needs it to be inside Amy. “Now do I have to bend over myself, or are you gonna hold me down?”

He responds to her taunt, pushing her down by the shoulder, pinning her in place as he takes one of her breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue around her nipple, humming contentedly like it’s all he’s ever wanted. He then releases her mound and proceeds to drop random kisses all over her chest. “You’re so impatient.”

“I think I have the right to be,” she retorts, fingers grabbing onto his full head of hair. “The thought of you has driven me crazy all night.”

“Big deal. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long–“

“How long?”

“Long enough–“ he straightens, and she hears him unbutton his jeans, making her heart race–“it’s safe to say that I only think of you, cuz you’re the only thing that gets me off, no matter who I’m with–“

“Have you been screaming the wrong name in bed, Peralta?”

She says that light-heartedly, to hide the streak of jealousy that runs through her at the thought of Jake lying with someone else.

“No,” he shakes his head. She moans when she feels the tip of his erection tease her entrance. “Your name is always the right name.”

And then he pushes through, sliding in almost effortlessly, or at least, as little effort as is possible when it comes to his member. A stream of ‘yes’s pour out from Amy as well as various sounds of satisfaction, and Jake takes that as his cue to keep moving, gaining confidence with each thrust as Amy begs and demands for more in equal measure.

“You feel so good,” he mumbles as if in a trance, fucking Amy into oblivion. The feel of him going in and out of her, the speed of it, it burns but doesn’t hurt, stretches her out but doesn’t break her. If the sensations and pleasure Amy currently experiences are a rollercoaster, that rollercoaster is going up a very steep slope, hundreds of miles an hour, with a rapidly increasing velocity. In simple terms, getting fucked by Jake feels so good, so unreal. She’s never had sex like this, even she could never fuck herself like he is right now.

She comes almost embarrassingly fast, especially given how this isn’t even her first orgasm of the night. But to be fair, when Jake’s hand slid down her thigh and lifted her leg up over his shoulder—she was done for—once he started fucking her at that angle.

“What are you doing?” she asks, after they’ve milked her orgasm for all it’s worth, and Jake pulls out, still hard. “Oh did you want me to...?”

She gestures to her mouth and then to his boner, inciting a short laugh from Jake. “I mean, if you want. I only realized too late that I probably should have um, put on a condom.”

“Just come inside me,” she shrugs, and Jake’s eyes widen. He’s partial to this prospect, because he really really wants to come inside of Amy, but at the same time, is she sure?

Amy answers his silent questions by taking him by the hand, and dragging him to her bedroom. There, she pushes him down on the bed, crawling on top of him and sliding his length inside herself. She does this slowly, clenching on purpose to make it a tight fit, grinning as she watches Jake come apart from her actions. He grips onto her hips in ecstasy as she begins pumping herself up and down, watching him curse and swear inaudibly, mouthing off herself because he feels good no matter how many times he’s been inside her.

He soon gets entranced by her body, and the way it moves as she goes up and down, up and down. He licks his lips as he stares at her chest, hand eventually sliding up to grab at one of them. “Your boobs are so beautiful babe,” he marvels, before sucking on one of them again, moaning as he intermittently plays with them. “Don’t ever want this to end.”

“Me neither,” she agrees, and the responding look Jake gets makes him seem almost surprised to see that she feels the same way. “But can you come soon? I’m starting to get tired.”

Chuckling, he holds her, pushing her down and offhandedly tells her to relax, before moving at a speed that makes Amy see stars—figuratively, of course—literally, she doesn’t know if she can even _see_ as Jake fucks her hard and fast again, she doesn’t know anything, all she can comprehend is the way Jake fills her up. And after that, she gets acquainted with his hot release as he comes, deep inside her like she so requested.

Panting, he falls back against her sea of pillows, looking disheveled but in a way that Amy finds... gorgeous. Yes, he’s gorgeous, more so now than she’s ever seen him before. Slowly, she crawls over to him, ignoring the way his seed trickles down her leg, collapsing next to him, pressed against his side.

She snuggles against his chest with a satisfied hum and despite the sequence of amazing events that preceded this moment, Amy considers this—her, resting her head on his body, his arm thrown around her waist—to be her favorite.

They may have just had sex for the first time, but cuddling Jake as they bask in the afterglow of their top notch, award-winning sex, Amy feels an odd sense of familiarity. Being held by Jake feels right. Getting kissed on the top of her head by Jake feels right. Smiling back up at him as their fingers wordlessly interlock... comes all too naturally.

It doesn’t feel new, almost. She’s giddy with excitement, but there’s a part of her that feels like she’s been with Jake for years. They know each other, and despite not knowing each other the way they just did before, it all worked out so perfectly, all of this falls into place so beautifully.

“Can I stay?” he asks, with only the slightest hesitation in his voice.

“I’d kill you if you left,” and then presses closer to him, giggling.

He’s looking at her again, and she loves the attention, almost as much as she loves looking back at him, staring and cataloguing every inch of his face, memorizing it.

“Wanna have sex again?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

 

* * *

 

“Detectives, thank you so much for catching that thief. We’ll up our security game–“ the man who Amy famously recalls for exposing Jake’s stripper name turns apologetically to Jake–“once again, sorry for what happened that day, I must have mistaken you for–“

“It’s okay Patrick, she knows,” Jake assures, and Patrick heaves a huge sigh of relief.

“Thank god! I hated pretending not to know you!” He wraps Jake into a tight hug, and his intensity vaguely reminds Amy of Charles. She supposes Jake just inspires that kind of devotion in some people. She shouldn’t be surprised—she’s dating him for god’d sake—and most of the time she’s just repressing the urge to hug Jake until neither of them can breathe. “I missed you so much, Big Dick Jake.”

Jake gently pats Patrick on the back, giving Amy an ‘ooh this is awkward sorry you gotta see this’ look. “I missed you too, Plump Penis Patrick.”

Plump Penis Patrick pulls away from Jake very reluctantly, dabbing at his eyes (is he crying? man, how close do strippers working at the same clubs get?). “So what are you two doing here? Do detectives tend to go back to the scene after the case is solved?”

Jake glances over at Amy, beaming. “Actually, we’re not here for business,” he winks. “Can we have a private room?”

Plump Penis Patrick rubs his hands together in glee (seriously, Charles would kill him if he knew of Plump’s existence). “Right this way, I’ll give you our best room.”

“Thanks Patrick–“ he wraps his arm around a blushing Amy–“because only the best room could handle the show I’m about to put on.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Amy smartly retorts, but she has a feeling she’s going to like what’s to come.

_And she doesn’t just mean the elaborate strip show that Jake has prepared for her._

**Author's Note:**

> thank u,,,,, i really hope people at least kinda like this IDK im tryna not have expectations since i wrote this on a whim™ 
> 
> UHH please leave a comment?? i love reviews and also kudos numbers make me happy 
> 
> which was ur favorite stripper name


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